Narrator's Point of View

The world was quiet in her sleep, but the silence was cruel. Stephanie found herself standing in a room that didn’t belong to her—an endless white space cloaked in fog. Curtains rippled though there was no wind, and the air smelled faintly of medicine and metal.

Two cribs stood before her, side by side. Tiny figures shifted inside—newborns, identical in their fragility, wrapped in pale cloth. The sight made her chest ache with a kind of love she didn’t yet ...